Hold On, Hold On
by Little Lost Wanderer
Summary: "Compared to some, I've been around, but I really tried so hard; that echo chorus lied to me with its, 'hold on, hold on, hold on, hold on...'" - Neko Case.
1. Chapter 1

Serena Campbell, consultant general surgeon and Deputy CEO, wandered onto AAU, twenty minutes late for her shift. Those who did not know her would assume she was just taking advantage of her position by allowing herself to come in late, but no. No, Serena Campbell was always on time for work. She was punctual and hard working, and everyone knew it. So why was she twenty minutes late?

This wasn't the first time in recent months that Serena had been this late for work. And when she was here, well, she was different. Different in how she spoke, different in how she looked, different in how she behaved. And yet nobody seemed to notice. Or maybe they just didn't want to.

But Adrian Fletcher had noticed. He saw it and he was worried by it. He watched her dump her bag by her desk and shut the office door, her movements heavy and unwilling. She looked tired. Worn out. After her mother died, Fletch had feared that Serena might come off the rails a little – the pair had been very close and it had hit Serena quite hard – but she seemed to stay relatively steady. Maybe that was partly Raf's doing, because he had decided to try his best for Serena. Raf seemed to get on well with her, and he appeared to get through to her more than most people could ever manage. She was, as everyone knew, as stubborn as nothing else on this planet.

Was he the only one who saw it? Did anyone else? Raf? Cara? Arthur? Morven? Guy? Hanssen, even? No, Hanssen surely would have said something to her; but then, maybe he had and Fletch just didn't know about it.

What was he supposed to do?

He tried to tell himself Serena was just having an off-day, but she'd been having those kinds of days at least three times a week for a few months now. It wasn't an off-day. But what was he meant to say to her? Point out all her mistakes and then ask if she was OK? She would devour him before he even got to the stage of asking about her wellbeing.

Every day, it got harder to say and do nothing. He could go to Hanssen, over her head, but he feared it would do more damage than good, and he was a little frightened of doing alone.

"Penny for your thoughts," a delicate voice from his side said. He turned to see Cara Martinez next to him, looking down at her small frame.

Fletch didn't speak; he just returned his gaze to Serena, watching her log into her computer and sip coffee before she pulled her hands across her face.

"You've noticed." Fletch glanced at her, only to find her mirroring his expression of confusion and concern. "She's losing weight, too. That blouse was tighter on her a couple of weeks ago."

"Now that you mention it..." Fletch trailed off, unable to say anything else in agreement. "There ain't much we can do, is there?"

"Not really," Cara concurred. "Keep an eye on her, maybe, but that's about it."

Fletch could just imagine the reaction if anyone dared approach her about it. Their life wouldn't be worth living. But it was getting worse. He had to do something, didn't he? He couldn't leave her to career down a road that was obviously not good for her. It was with that thought, and the knowledge that someone else had seen what he did, that he headed to Raf's office, on the other side of the ward from Serena's.

He knocked on the door and rested his fingers on the handle. It was strange to think that he had wrestled with a patient's widower and Guy Self over a hand grenade in that room.

"Come in!" called the occupant. "Ah, Fletch," Raf smiled. Fletch did not smile. He was not in the mood. "What's up?"

"Serena," was Fletch's answer. "She's in late again."

Raf sighed. "I'd be annoyed if I didn't know her."

Fletch understood that. From anyone else, it would have been put down to laziness or poor timekeeping. But this was Serena Campbell. She wasn't lazy, so this new behaviour was concerning rather than irritating. "I'd say we should talk to her but we all know how that's gonna pan out."

Raf nodded his head. "Hanssen."

"Oh, no, Raf," Fletch found himself moaning. "He might make it a million times worse. And if she finds out we went to Hanssen, Gawd help us."

It felt strange to be talking about their senior consultant in such a way, but Fletch was sure they couldn't let her keeping going like this. She was burning herself out. Any idiot could see that. And, because it was Serena and they knew what she was like, they had very few options. "Have you got a better idea?" demanded Raf. Fletch couldn't say he did. "Exactly. This isn't normal, and Hanssen's worked with her longer than any of us have. He might have an idea of what to do."

"Maybe you should talk to her," Fletch desperately suggested. "You got through to her when her mum died."

"This is different," Raf replied. "She's in a worse state now. When Adrienne died, she was upset and she was a wee bit of a mess, but this is so much worse than that. She looks ill, Fletch. It's beyond what I can achieve by speaking to her."

Fletch exhaled heavily, knowing full well that Raf was quite probably right. Raf stood up and left the office, and Fletch followed him. "Dr. Shreve, Nurse Martinez," Raf beckoned the two women. "Fletch and I are going out to take care of something for a wee while, so if you need any help, give Ms. Campbell a shout, OK?" The women nodded and Raf stalked away with purpose and determination that Fletch was too wary to feel.

He followed once more, joining Raf in the lift. "Listen, you sure this is a good idea?" he tried once more to dissuade his friend, to buy some time. But it was perhaps time Serena didn't have, depending upon what was wrong with her. What if there was something seriously, life-threateningly wrong with her, and Hanssen knew about it? Then he and Raf would just appear nosy and disrespectful.

Right now, Fletch had to agree with Raf: Serena looked ill. Very ill.

In a daze, he found himself at Hanssen's door, up on the fifth floor, and wondered how on Earth they were going to approach the subject with the cold, intimidating, inscrutable Henrik Hanssen.

"Come!" called the voice Fletch had secretly hoped would be absent. They entered the office, and even Hanssen seemed just the tiniest bit surprised to see them. "Gentlemen," he greeted them, gesturing to the two chairs on their side of his desk. "How can I help you?"

Fletch couldn't help but notice that Hanssen's manner was one of over-politeness, almost like a receptionist in an upmarket hotel. He couldn't find the words to answer him; speaking to the Swede about Serena was proving to be much more daunting than speaking to Raf had been.

Finally, Raf spoke up. "Have you seen Serena Campbell lately?" he asked of the CEO.

"Ms. Campbell is the Deputy CEO," Hanssen replied. "Our paths do cross from time to time." Fletch resisted the urge to roll his eyes – was that Hanssen's way of saying that he saw Serena fairly often? Why couldn't he just say as much. "Is there a reason you ask?"

Raf glanced at Fletch, with an almost pleading look, until Fletch eventually steeled himself to open his mouth. "Yeah, she was late for work today," he explained.

"She will have her reasons, I'm sure."

It was infuriating. Fletch couldn't tell if Hanssen knew what was going on or not.

"It's been happening a lot, Mr. Hanssen," he found himself explaining. "At least twice, maybe three times a week. And then once she's in, well, she ain't right."

"In what way?"

It was impossible to know whether he was being challenged for talking to Hanssen about a consultant, or whether he was genuinely as interested, concerned and downright confused as he himself was.

"Well, Nurse Martinez made a comment about Serena having lost a bit of weight this morning," Fletch said, dropping the act of calling her 'Ms. Campbell.' He was here about Serena, and he didn't care what Hanssen thought of his concerns, as long as something was done to help her.

"And she's pure white most of the time," Raf added. "And she's distracted. Tired. She's starting to lose interest in things."

"Such as?"

Fletch sighed. He didn't want to say it to Hanssen, because he knew the man would find it hard to associate it with what happened here at work. "She doesn't come out anymore. She doesn't socialise."

Hanssen did not answer him, but Fletch could tell from the look on his face that he was struggling with the concept of it being abnormal for someone not to go to the pub after a crap shift. "Look, Mr. Hanssen," Raf broke the tense silence. "We're not here to grass Serena up. We're here because we're worried about her and we don't know how to deal with her to try and help her."

Hanssen stiffly nodded his head before he eventually spoke. "Thank you for airing your concerns, gentlemen. I shall address the situation as best I can."

Fletch could not resist letting out a soft chuckle. "But this Serena we're talking about," he added what Hanssen obviously was too polite and respectful to say himself. Hanssen's curt nod was the only indication that he knew just what he was up against, and the only indication Fletch had that this situation was news to him.

Knowing they ought to have been getting back to AAU, Fletch stood up. "Thank you," both he and Raf said in unison, before they left the office with sensations of dread and relief battling one another for dominance.

* * *

Serena left her office to assist Morven Shreve, who was unsure about which tests to order on a particularly puzzling patient, noting that Raf and Fletch were walking out of the lift together, probably just back from grabbing a quick coffee.

Completely on auto-pilot, Serena examined the patient and explained to Morven which tests to order and the symptoms that made each test necessary. Morven was a bright young doctor, but Serena knew how hard the job could be when the mind decided to erase itself momentarily of all its basic medical knowledge.

The moment she had made sure Morven ordered the right tests from Cara, Serena felt her mobile vibrate in her pocket. She looked at the screen and found it was Henrik Hanssen who was calling her; she didn't regret persuading him back here, but at the present time, she didn't want to deal with him. However, she knew she had to. "Hello," she answered as she stepped back into her office.

"Ms. Campbell," she heard him greet her. "How are you?"

That was a strange question for Hanssen to ask, since he was, after all, Hanssen, but she put it down to him being in his version of a good mood and answered anyway. "I'm fine. What can I do for you?"

"I was wondering if you had time in your schedule for a meeting with me this afternoon," he said. Now she knew why he was being 'nice' – he wanted her to make time for a meeting.

"What time?" she asked, quickly running through the day's commitments in her head.

"How does three-thirty suit you?" he suggested.

Annoyingly, she was indeed free between three o'clock and four-thirty, unless there were any disasters. "Yes, that's fine." She went to ask what the meeting was to be about but decided she didn't really care. It was still time stuck in a room with Hanssen, after all.

"I shall see you then."


	2. Chapter 2

Hanssen sat at his desk; it was twenty minutes to four, and Serena was still not here. Dr. Di Lucca and Nurse Fletcher had been right; this was not typical of the Serena Campbell he knew. Normally, she would have been here, sitting opposite him, by now. But she wasn't, and that was actually worrying.

It was another minute and a half before there was a knock at his door and he called, "Come in!"

In stepped Serena, whose clothes were indeed loose – perhaps Nurse Martinez did have a point – and whose expression was one that combined a complete lack of concern with a certain amount of underlying anxiety. "What's this all about, Henrik?" she demanded in a single sigh, thumping herself down onto the sofa on the other side of the room. How strange. She would have usually sat right in front of him.

"It has been brought to my attention that you are arriving considerably late for shifts on a regular basis."

That one sentence seemed to have at least an effect on Serena; her eyes hardened and he faintly heard her swallow. But she didn't speak, and Hanssen wasn't really sure he ever expected her to.

"Is there anything you would like to tell me, Ms. Campbell?"

He held her gaze. Unlike most, he was not afraid of her, because he knew her. He knew her better than she thought he did. Until now, he would have been able to cautiously predict most of her moves, but all that was out the window. Even just looking at her, there was no way of knowing what she was thinking. He was used to being given an expression, even a raised eyebrow, to decipher, but there was nothing apart from her hard, dark eyes.

He waited until her answer eventually split the silence in two. "No. Nothing," she said, very quietly.

Of course, Hanssen didn't believe her, but he felt he had to give her the opportunity to talk to him. It was his job to be there to help all his staff, and that included the mighty Serena Campbell. "Is there any way in which I can help you be on time in the morning?" he asked.

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive."

"In that case," he sighed, having hoped he wouldn't have to go about it this way, "you shall report to me at the start of your shift until we get a handle on your timekeeping."

Inwardly, he winced. The expression on her face said it all. Serena was _furious_. "Excuse me?" she spat out. It was when she stood up that Hanssen remembered just why so many people tended to be wary of her. "I am not some delinquent schoolgirl."

"I know that."

He remained calm while he watched Serena's temper was visibly bubbling up. "Then why?!"

"You are having issues with arriving to work on time. Having me know exactly when you show up is an incentive to get here when you are supposed to be here," he explain. It wasn't the only reason, but he wasn't about to tell her that. However, it was the primary reason for his tactics. "It isn't open for discussion, Ms. Campbell. For the next fortnight, you will come and see me at the start and end of your shift."

"Start _and_ end?!"

"Yes," he replied, quite calmly. Getting as wound up as she was becoming would do neither one of them any good. "Unless, of course, you feel like explaining to me your reasons for being late more often than you are on time."

She stared him down, her features harsh and angry. "You're joking."

"I most certainly am not joking."

"Does this include the end of my shift tonight?"

"Yes."

"I'm not happy about this, Henrik."

"I can see that."

In a way, he found he wanted to break her down until she told him what the problem she faced was. He did not believe that this was a simple case of Serena being lazy in the morning; he was almost certain there was something else going on. Right now, though, all he could get was anger and frustration, and to be fair to Serena, he was doing everything that was bound to anger and frustrate her – he knew it.

And then Serena surprised him. She sat down in the chair opposite him. She did not speak. She did not even look at him at all. She just sat down and stared at the floor. "Are you quite sure that there is nothing you would like to say? I can assure you it will not leave this office."

Serena remained silent. It was actually quite unnerving, to see a woman who once had so much to say for herself sit before him without even wanting to say anything.

When she did speak, it was not what he had hoped to hear. "You're treating me like a child."

"I am treating you the way I would treat any other member of staff."

"I need my freedom, Henrik."

"You have your freedom. I would just like to know, directly from you, that you are beginning and finishing your shifts at the correct times, and that all is well for you." Those last few words, he realised, were the first indication that he really did care about what happened to Serena. There was this misconception throughout the hospital that he was cold, that he did not care at all about what happened to people or how they felt. He did. He was a human being, so of course he was going to feel for other people. The rest of the world just could not read him.

He knew Serena was stubborn, but he could be stubborn too. She must have known that, since she had known him as long as he had known her. "Henrik, I'll start making damn sure I'm in on time. Every day. Isn't that enough for you?"

Hanssen exhaled slowly, and he stood up. "Serena," he said, using her first name for the first time in a long, long time. "I must confess that I am worried."

"Worried?" she shot at him, looking around as her gaze followed his path around the desk until he stopped and leaned slightly against the file cabinet. "About _me_?"

"Yes. It's not in your nature to let timekeeping slip. I've never known you to be late for work to the extent that you allow now."

It was Serena's turn to be surprised; it was the only obvious emotion – aside from anger – that he had seen in her yet. He had not wanted to tell her that he was worried about her, because it would only prompt her to put on a façade. But it was better than her thinking that he was out to get her, because he truly wasn't. He was out to make sure that Serena was fit to work. More than that, though, he wanted to know she was alright.

He knew the impact he had on her when she asked, "Can I get back to work?"

"Yes," he said, heading to the door as Serena stood up. "I will see you at eight o'clock." At the door, the way to the corridor open, Serena stopped and looked up at him. He returned her gaze and searched her for an answer, but there was no getting beyond the wall she was putting up.

* * *

At eight o'clock, Serena shut down her computer and put on her coat, irritated by the demands Hanssen was now making of her. Yes, she had been late a couple of times recently, but there was no need for the measures he was taking. And there was no need for him to be worrying about her, either. That was nothing short of ridiculous.

What Serena wanted to know was just how Hanssen knew about her being late. Not once had he been on AAU when she had come in a few minutes later than she ought to have been. Not once.

She waited for the lift, and watched Fletch, Raf and Cara do handover to the nightshift staff. Had one of them noticed and gone to Hanssen? But then why would they? They were capable of surviving on AAU without her, and they weren't likely to care if she were late for any reason. They didn't care about her, so why would they care if she were late?

On the fifth floor, she stood outside Hanssen's door. It wasn't like she hadn't stood in this spot before, but it felt different. Was he checking up on her? Obviously. Did he really care about her beyond how she ran AAU? Of course not. So _why_ was he making her do this?

She knocked and was told to enter in the usual manner. She went in, only to find him packing up for the night. "Happy now?" she raised an eyebrow at him. "I'm leaving when I always leave."

"Very good, Ms. Campbell," he said in that irritating tone of his. "I'm just heading home myself, actually."

"So I see."

She watched him pack his things, transfixed by his manner of handling his possessions. He was careful and precise, and she was sure he had a place for every little thing. After about thirty seconds, he stood straight and looked right at her. Unable to do anything else, she smiled. It wasn't a real, heartfelt smile, but Henrik Hanssen wasn't exactly the master of emotions so he wasn't going to know any better.

He strode up to her and said, "Shall we walk?"

Only because she didn't have an excuse not to, Serena proceeding to walk down the corridor with Hanssen. To her surprise, he led her to the stairs rather than the lift; why would he do that? Feeling obligated to make conversation since it was going to take them a while to part ways, she asked him, "How was your day?"

"It was very productive, thank you," was his characteristically uptight answer. "How was yours?"

For the first time since she was a child, when she didn't understand it was only an idiom, Serena found herself with her teeth on her tongue, reminding herself not to snap at Hanssen for his decision earlier. Instead she formulated a believable answer. "Busy, but when isn't AAU busy?"

She saw the corner of Henrik's mouth turn up. "Plans for tonight?"

"Sleep."

"Really?" he asked her, his tone one of mild surprise. "I was led to believe the custom on AAU was to go to Albie's after a busy shift."

"Yeah, Cara, Fletch, Raf, a few others, they're going for a couple of drinks. I'm not in the mood."

"For alcohol or for socialising?"

They reached the first floor stairwell when she stopped and waited for him to notice and turn around. When he did, three steps down the flight of stairs, she stared at him. He knew. Somehow, he knew that she had stopped going out. "How do you know?" she said, barely able to hear her own voice.

"Know what?" he innocently returned. She watched him plead ignorance, and he was convincing, but she knew him better. Hanssen never said anything for no reason. Never.

Suspicious of his motives, she decided to play him at his own game. "Nothing, I'm sure I must have misunderstood." She didn't want to give away how much she thought about everything that was said to her, by Hanssen or anyone else.

So she walked down the stairs, making mundane conversation, mostly concerning the weather and how it was turning colder, until she saw her car and could escape.

But she couldn't resist. She turned and faced him at the main entrance and said, "Goodnight, Henrik." She watched him carefully, knowing he was doing the same to her, and saw something she didn't recognise in his face. He looked like he wanted to say something, but he didn't speak about anything else to her.

"Goodnight, Ms. Campbell."

She smiled and stalked down to her car; she unlocked and opened the door and sat there, not really knowing what she felt.


	3. Chapter 3

Hanssen sighed as he watched the clock strike nine. Serena still hadn't shown up, but then, he decided, she might have been on AAU depositing her belongings and on her way to him at this very moment. He was used to Serena being here quarter of an hour early, not quarter of an hour late; his instinct told him that there was something making matters difficult for her in the morning, to cause that half an hour of a difference.

He sat and he tried to figure it out.

Either it was her own self of someone else who was causing the problem. It wasn't her mother, who regrettably died almost a year ago. As far as he knew, Serena's daughter was at university and Edward, with whom Serena was close to becoming romantically entangled when Hanssen left after that car crash, was long gone. So it wasn't her family – as far he knew. There was no sign that she was romantically involved with anyone at all, for that matter. Did that mean Serena's problem was to do with only herself?

Ten minutes later, Serena Campbell strode in, without knocking on the door or announcing herself in any other way. When he looked up to see her, she said, slightly breathlessly, "I'm here, alright? I'm going down to AAU now."

Hanssen stared at her. She was still laden with her ridiculously sized bag and briefcase, and she was yet to take off her coat. She wore no make up, which suggested she had rushed to get here before she was any more late than she was now. "Sit down, please, Ms. Campbell," he told her. Even he was surprised by how gently his voice came out, and it showed in Serena's expression.

"Henrik, the problem you had was that I was late, and now you're keeping me here, which will only make me later in getting onto the ward."

"Have a seat and catch your breath."

Though he could see she was reluctant to do so, Serena slumped into the chair opposite him. If he was brutally honest, she looked awful. She was as beautiful as she ever was, but her skin was pale and her eyes were tired. He looked her over, and wondered just what was going on in her head right now. "What time did you get up this morning?" he dared to ask her.

"My alarm is set for the same time every morning. Six-thirty."

"That's not what I asked."

"Mr. Hanssen, if you don't mind, I need to get to AAU now," she deflected, beginning to rise to her feet.

"Actually, I was heading down there to discuss a patient with Nurse Martinez and Dr. Di Lucca, so I will walk with you."

"Great," she smiled, but he saw and heard the sarcasm. He knew he was irritating her, but to him, it was necessary. He didn't want to. Of course he didn't. But there was no other way to get through to Serena. He watched her try and fail to figure out what he was doing. In all honesty, he wasn't even completely sure of what he was doing.

But he was starting to doubt himself; was it really the best thing to do, to wear her down until she told him what on Earth was wrong with her? She really was one stubborn human being. Perhaps he was only going to reinforce the strength of her walls.

As the walked down the corridor, again towards the stairs rather than the lift, he said to her, "I do wish you would try and explain to me why you're struggling with timekeeping. There might be a way for me to help."

"Let it go."

The words echoed through the empty air, and they caused him to stop, just as Serena had done last night. "Don't you see my dilemma?" he asked her, waiting for her to stop at the bottom of the steps, halfway between the fourth and fifth floors. She turned, and he knew at that moment that she could see nothing of his dilemma. He was beginning to believe she wasn't able to see outside of herself.

He made his way down the steps, stopping so he was standing right next to her. "You see, Ms. Campbell, I have this brilliant surgeon, who is my second-in-command. She's a skilled physician, a good-hearted woman, the life and soul of any party, and she always wants to be the best," he told her, watching her face very carefully. "But recently, she has changed. She comes in late and she hides in her office. She doesn't go out, and she seems to have lost a great deal of her motivation. But I _know_ that she is not lazy, incompetent or antisocial, and it worries me that her behaviour has changed so dramatically. So, do I allow her to continue on her downward spiral, or do I try and get to the bottom of what is causing these changes?"

Serena fell back against the wall, looking slightly stunned. Finally, he seemed to have given her something to think about.

"Downward spiral?" she repeated, staring at the floor. "Henrik, you're so straight and narrow that you wouldn't know a downward spiral if it slapped you in the face."

That comment in itself was a bit of a slap in the face. He was not a robot. He felt. He knew what it was to feel like everything was wrong and nothing was right. "You cannot deny that you have been distracted of late."

"Everyone has been. It's not exactly a bed of roses around here."

Hanssen looked down at her, seeing her contemplate whatever it was that bothered her at that moment. Whatever it was, he was able to see it tearing her apart. Hesitantly, he reached out his hand, and he placed it on her shoulder; it wasn't his typical move, but she was in pain. He saw that in her. He didn't know what kind of pain it was – physical, emotional, mental – but he was beginning to understand that there was something eating her.

She was staring at his hand, and he was staring at her face. It was the description he had for her that seemed to shock her more than anything. The original description. He had only been saying what he thought of her, and it seemed to have done more harm than good. Her fingers brushed the back of his hand; it was almost like she didn't quite believe he was touching her, and he couldn't really blame her for that. It was not normal behaviour for him. Really, if he hadn't known her as long as he did, he didn't think he would have tried this hard.

"I'm fine."

Again, her words ricocheted against the walls, bouncing back and forth until their energy ran out. Serena stood up straight again, and he let his hand drop from her shoulder.

They proceeded on their path to the Acute Admissions Unit, but with a tension in the air between them. She was obviously unhappy about his attempts to understand what was happening. After all, she was ten minutes late even today. He had actually thought she would be here early just to prove a point. In fact, for Serena _not_ to do that was slightly bizarre.

* * *

Scrubbing out of theatre at a quarter to eight that night, Serena found herself alone with Raf. She wanted to ask him questions. Questions about how the hell Hanssen knew when she was arriving on the ward or that she was avoiding social interactions. But she didn't. She didn't want to know. She wasn't sure she really even cared.

"Come out for a drink with me tonight," Raf suggested. "It's been a long time since we got together."

"Maybe another time," she answered, not even considering it as a possibility. She didn't add that she had to go and see Hanssen at eight, before she went anywhere, because she didn't want Raf to know she was being reprimanded. It was embarrassing, really. She was one of the most senior surgeons in the hospital and yet she was being disciplined for poor timekeeping. It was what she would expect of a scatterbrained F1, not herself, but she couldn't help it. Mornings were the hardest part of the day for her, and she couldn't get any control over it anymore.

Their hands washed and dried, they both turned and leaned against the sink at the same time. "You know, Serena, a couple of drinks won't kill you. You weren't shy of it a few months ago," he reminded her. He was right, of course. She had got very, very drunk with Raf on several occasions, and they had a great deal of fun and had important conversations. These days, though, important conversations were exactly what she wanted to avoid.

"I know."

It was all she could say, because she knew he was right.

So she walked away, unable to hold this conversation with Raf. He saw through her too easily; she had learned that through her ordeal with her mum. How else would she wind up drunk in the office with him, before burying her mother's ashes and then being packed away to Paris for a few days?

She went to the locker room and got changed out of her scrubs. It took a lot of energy to put her arms over her head and struggle out of that light blue scrub top; she just felt so tired, all the time. Every single day, she felt absolutely bloody knackered.

Once she was dressed, she found herself examining her body in the mirror. She had lost weight, but not with intent. It just happened.

She sighed and went back to her office; by the time she got there, it was dead on eight o'clock, so she gathered her belongings, put on her coat and shut down her computer. Unwillingly, she pressed the 'up' button on the lift and waited. She couldn't really be bothered with this carry on of reporting to Hanssen twice a day, but it was more than her sanity was worth not to do it. And besides, she knew now he was doing this to her with the best of intentions.

His words this morning had shook her a little; she had never known him to speak positively of her, or display any real concern for her. She wondered if he cared more about her than she did about herself. Mind you, that wouldn't have been much of a feat.

She found her knuckles rapping against Hanssen's office door. "Come in!" he called. Once more, she walked in to find him packing his things away, although today he was at the stage of putting his coat on. "Ah, Ms. Campbell. I'll be with you in a moment."

She watched him, wondering how much of this was engineered by him. Yes, he had spoken to Raf this morning, and she understood why when she met that patient, but she didn't need someone to walk her to her car.

And yet, she waited for him. She didn't have to, but she did. Why? Why was she doing this to herself?

Once he was in the corridor with her, she asked him, "Ready?"

He nodded, and headed for the stairs. She would prefer the lift, mostly because she felt so exhausted, but she didn't want to let on that she wasn't feeling as completely fantastic as she wanted him to believe. "How was your day, Ms. Campbell?"

"OK. We ended up with Jackie Matheson in theatre at about six o'clock. Her spleen ruptured all over the place, as we predicted."

"How is she now?"

"Stable," allowed Serena.

"Have you thought any more about our conversation this morning?"

"No," she lied. Truthfully, she had thought about it a few times. She had wondered why he was doing what he did, and she had thought up many names for the Swede in her head throughout the course of the day. "Why do you give a damn?" she couldn't resist asking.

He paused for a moment before he answered her. "I want to know that you are reasonably happy and healthy. It is your fundamental human right to have the best standard of life that your circumstances permit."

Serena did not say a word. Instead, she memorised his words so she could cross-examine them later on. She didn't realise that she wasn't paying attention to the outside world from that moment, until suddenly she was at the driver's side door of her car, Hanssen at her side. "Ms. Campbell," he said quietly. He was hesitating, and that never bode well. It always meant he was unsure if what he was going to say was wise. "If you do need any help, please contact someone you trust. Contact me, even. It would never go any further."

As much as she wanted to say she would never need to take up such an offer, she wasn't sure if that was true. So she said, "Thank you, Henrik," and got in her car, watching him stride away to his own.


	4. Chapter 4

The alarm clock let out a single beep as it struck three in the morning. Lately, Serena had been awake for that beep far too often. It was driving her crazy. She couldn't sleep, and as a consequence, she couldn't get up at the right time in the morning. She had hoped her body would adapt to its new habits, but it hadn't. It left her to run around like a headless chicken in the morning and still not get to work at the right time. It was maddening.

She was trying to sleep. She really was. But her mind wasn't having it. Instead, her brain decided to replay scenes from throughout the day over and over in her head. One scene that came up a lot was the incident on the stairs that occurred over sixteen hours ago. Henrik Hanssen was reaching out to her. In his actions and in his words, it was becoming increasingly apparent that he believed there was something wrong with Serena.

And Serena, as stubborn as always, could tell him she was fine until she was blue in the face, but he was never going to believe her. She was beginning to understand that now. And maybe it would be easier just to take his hand and let him in, but she didn't know how. She didn't know what to say. She didn't know where to start.

Unable to keep trying to sleep while calm evaded her, Serena sat up and stared through the darkness. It was horrible. Her mind was over-active when it was supposed to rest, and it slowed down when it was supposed to be active. It was doing everything wrong.

In her heart, she knew something was not right. She knew this. This had happened before.

But why was it happening again now? Everything was fine; she had no reason to be like this. She had no excuse. She had come to terms with her mum's death, and she had nothing else to attribute her behaviour and feelings to. It was ridiculous; she felt like a total fool. But it was real, too.

She obsessed over it. That was something she could not help but do. After all, it was having an effect on every part of her life. She felt as rotten at home as she did at work. That feeling...she had no words to describe it.

And then there was Hanssen. She would have told him if she knew how. He probably thought she was just being cantankerous, but she found it easier to deflect his concern than try and explain what was happening to her. Besides, how could she tell him what she couldn't verbalise. An articulate woman she definitely was, but this was something she couldn't put into spoken words. Serena was fit to explode, as she had no outlet. Her biggest fear was that she was going to detonate in the presence of someone who was completely innocent, who was unaware of the way she was living.

Her head in her hands, she could feel her chest tightening, anxious about when she would manage to wake up when she eventually forced herself into sleep. She was caught between not giving a damn and caring too much, and she somehow managed to do both simultaneously. That was the worst part. It was a horrible, vicious cycle, and one she could not find a way out of.

She lay back down and stared at the digital display that told her she had wasted twenty-five minutes of precious sleeping time. Not that it mattered. It probably made no difference, because she knew her mind didn't want to sleep. It wanted to obsess.

* * *

Twenty-five past nine came around, and Hanssen began to worry. Even by Serena's current standards, this was very late. He did not hesitate as he picked up the phone and dialled her mobile number, but it went straight to voicemail. Seeing no point in leaving a message she would likely never listen to, he hung up.

Five minutes later, Serena came crashing in the door, looking worse than he had ever seen her look before. She was busy on her phone, probably seeing the message that told her she had missed his call, and dropped her briefcase down on the floor. "I'm here!" she announced as she put the phone in her trouser pocket. "I'm going now."

Hanssen got to his feet, somewhat horrified by the sight in front of him. "Are you alright?" he asked her. The first direct address he had made to her, concerning her health.

"Yeah, yeah," she waved a hand at him. "Alarm rang and I dozed off."

And then he realised. Well, he thought he did. He had no way of knowing for sure that he was right but, to him, it made sense. "You were still awake when your alarm went off, weren't you?"

The look on her face confirmed what he feared. Serena lived a quarter of an hour's drive through the city from the hospital, which meant she left sometime after nine. She probably took about half an hour to shower and get ready, which meant that the only sleep she had was sometime between six-thirty and eight-thirty.

"Please, Ms. Campbell, do not operate on patients today," he told her. Again, she looked outraged.

"But I am _fine_!" she exclaimed.

"No, you're not."

He bent down and picked up her briefcase from the floor, and he handed it to her. Her hands were small and they were trembling ever so slightly. "Can I go now?" she demanded, her voice coming across as angry. "I'm late enough as it is."

She was staring up at him; her dark eyes were hollow and full at the same time. Hollow of happiness and full of torment. He closed the door and guided her gently to the sofa at the far end of the room. "Try and relax," he advised her; she looked in danger of going into a panic attack, or else shouting the odds at him.

"I need coffee," she informed him.

It was a simple statement, but it told Hanssen a great deal. It told him she may not stay awake without caffeine. It told him she was exhausted. It told him she needed to tell him what was going on.

"There will be coffee on Keller. I'm going to swap your shift with Mr. Levy's," he explained to her. She looked around at him with predictable irritation. "Despite the presence of Dr. Copeland, Keller is far less stressful a place to work than AAU is. He has no surgery scheduled; Dr. Copeland, Mr. Law and Nurse Harrison have that situation covered. It may also benefit you not to have to deal with Dr. Digby or Dr. Shreve."

The other option was to send her home, but he was sure that was the worst thing he could do.

To his surprise, she said, "Thank you."

He nodded at her. "Are you going to tell me what's wrong with you, or am I going to have to make you take sick leave?"

"I can't do either of those things, Henrik."

Hanssen knew that. He had just hoped the threat would force her to open up. "I'm finding it difficult to understand your behaviour," he admitted. "Actually, I'm finding it difficult to understand how you are surviving on what little sleep you are getting."

Serena shrugged. "I always survive."

"If you do feel like venting, you know where to find me."

"I'm not capable of telling you," she told him. For the first time, she was acknowledging that there was something to tell – something she had relentlessly denied until now. "And believe me, you don't want to know."

Hanssen let the breath he was holding go. "And you wouldn't believe me if I said I did, would you?"

"No."

He knew that was the answer, and didn't know how to pursue it further. "Alright," he said, standing up, "down to Keller."

Looking down at her tired face, he saw she didn't particularly want to do anything. Was she sticking in at work – as best she could – because she felt she had no option? Did she enjoy her work at all these days? Was she losing interest in being everything she had always been?

When she did not move, he cautiously held his hand out to her; maybe he didn't know what lurked beneath the surface, but he felt she could do with some patience and understanding.

* * *

In the office Serena shared with Ric Griffin in her earlier days working in the hospital, Serena stared at the piece of paper in front of her. What she was writing made no sense. Really, it was barely coherent. She had managed to power her way through Sacha's paperwork – albeit on autopilot – to do this in the last half an hour of her shift, and it was useless.

On an hour and a half's sleep, this wasn't going to work, was it? But then, did it matter if what she wrote was a mess? If this was all she could muster? She didn't want to come across as stupid, unintelligent, worthless. Everything she was.

Even her handwriting was messy; she would normally have quite pretty writing. She used to, at least.

There was a knock on the door and Serena threw a stack of papers on top of that one piece of paper, to hide it from wandering eyes. "Come in!" she called. In walked Essie Harrison, Sacha's partner.

"Sorry," she smiled. "Sacha just asked me to pick up his phone charger."

"Not a problem," she smiled, getting out of the chair and allowing Essie to search for the plug and USB cable. The blonde rifled through the drawers and didn't find it, so moved on the top of the desk. Serena very nearly panicked when Essie's hands fell onto the papers, lifting all but the bottom one. Thankfully, she was too busy searching for a charger to pay attention to what was written down.

Serena looked around and found a white charger still plugged in, though with the power off.

"Is that it?" she asked, pointing at the wall.

"Ugh, yes," Essie answered. "I don't know how many times I've told him not to leave the cable hanging out like that!" She went down and took the charger, and left after thanking Serena.

When the door was closed behind Essie, Serena sat down and exhaled heavily. That was too close. She looked at the time and found it was five minutes to eight, so she went through her usual end-of-shift routine. She lifted the piece of paper, knowing she couldn't leave it anywhere in here for fear of Sacha or any other person finding it; with that in mind, she folded in three and then in two again, and stuffed it in her coat pocket.

She went to the lift and got herself to Hanssen's office, knocking on the door. She really had to remember to do that in the morning; she somehow didn't think he appreciated her haphazard arrivals, but she was so rushed, so wound up, that she always forgot.

When she was invited in, he was already set to go home. How strange. "Shall we?" he asked her. Why was he doing this every night? Nonetheless, she nodded and followed him to the stairs. The paper in her pocket felt like a lead weight; she was completely conscious of its existence. When they reached the first floor, Hanseen unexpectedly asked her, "Will you be alright this evening?"

"Of course," she smiled, trying to convince him. Was it worth it? Was it worth the effort to try and make him believe that she was fine? Wouldn't it just be easier to let him see her?

At the main entrance, she stopped, and she said, "Goodnight, Henrik."

"Goodnight, Ms. Campbell," he replied, and she waited for him to walk off to his car. She watched him get into the driver's seat and start the engine.

What was she doing? She wasn't alright! Why wasn't she trying anymore? She needed someone to know, to understand, and the person who needed to understand was the person who could tell her she didn't have a job anymore.

So she ran. She ran towards Henrik Hanssen, towards his reversing car, and forced him to slam on the brakes when she put her hand on the bonnet. He opened the window and he looked a bit frightened. "Serena?" he asked, and it was obvious she had worried him.

She rummaged in her pocket and found that bit of paper, folded and slightly crumpled. Her hands shook slightly as she passed it to him. All she could do was tell him, "Read it," and rush away to her car, sure she had left him flummoxed.


	5. Chapter 5

Hanssen sat in his car, staring at this piece of paper Serena had handed him, and wondered what she had put on it. Why did she give it to him, of all the people she knew? There must have been people she trusted far more than she trusted him. She was not the most trusting of people, and from what Hanssen had heard about what went on that Christmas the year he left, he really could not blame her. Not to mention the number of times Guy Self had ruined her path and her confidence.

He didn't like to blame anyone for Serena's mistrust, but it didn't occur all by itself. It was caused by certain people, a string of events. He wondered who she had trusted when her mother died. She must have confided in someone, but it definitely wasn't him. So, why did she choose him now?

Carefully, he unfolded the mess of a piece of paper, and his first observation was that the handwriting was completely unruly. Completely un-Serena-like.

 _I don't know how to say this. It's all a mess. I can't sleep. I_ _really_ _can't sleep. I lie awake and think about everything I know and everything I don't know and everything I will never know. My brain can't stop. Can't. Just can't do it. Can't even get up in the morning. How pathetic. A surgeon who can't do surgery. A doctor that's never on the ward. How useless. How worthless._ _How utterly stupid._

 _I never know if I don't care at all or if I care too much, or if anything I'm doing is real. I've always forgotten something, too. Never know what it is, but there's always something I haven't remembered. But what is it? What don't I remember? What don't I know? It's driving me mad. But I don't care, either. But I do care. No, I don't. I do. I don't. How can I do both at the same time?_

 _Head's too full. Everything is chasing everything. I don't know what's what or who's who or where's where, because it never stays still. But I give up. I don't care. No point in caring. Doesn't get you anywhere. Apart from abandoned and betrayed. But who cares? I care. I care too much. But I don't give a damn. But it worries me. But I don't care._

 _I care._

 _Don't._

 _Do._

 _Don't._

 _Do._

Beneath was a rough scribble, that seemed to be produced in temper; Hanssen sighed. He had been hoping that he was over-reacting to Serena's behaviour, but it was becoming clear that his fears were founded.

* * *

"No, no, _no_!"

Serena ran around the house in search of her car keys, glancing at the kitchen clock as she did so. It was already ten minutes to nine, and she was meant to be in a meeting at quarter past. This was nightmare. She _had_ to start getting some sleep. But she couldn't, and there was no point in wishing for the impossible.

Triumphantly, she swiped her car keys from the fruit bowl, where she had inexplicably dumped them when she dragged herself in the house last night. Probably why she didn't remember where they were – she had been exhausted and she had put them somewhere stupid.

Stupid was her only attribute at the moment; after all, why else would she give Henrik Hanssen a piece of paper with a bunch of crazy things written straight from her mind? That was stupid. _So_ stupid.

Once in the car, she rammed the gear stick into reverse and, not thinking one little bit, put her foot with some force on the throttle as she took her left off the clutch. To her horror, a small girl and her mother appeared in the rear view mirror and she pressed her feet down on the clutch and the brake, hard. She didn't realise she had held her breath until it escaped her, her whole body intoxicated by relief when the mother and child passed unharmed. This lack of concentration was ridiculous. She hadn't even checked her mirrors before reversing.

She was going to end up killing someone.

* * *

At ten past nine, Hanssen heard the handle on his office door move, but whoever was behind it refrained for a moment and knocked. He smiled to himself; Serena had remembered to knock for the first morning all week. "Come in, Ms. Campbell!" he called.

In she came, and she demanded, "How did you know it was me?"

"Just a hunch," he replied, managed not to smirk. After all, they had nothing to smirk about right now – they had five minutes to get to this meeting with the Board that neither of them particularly wanted to attend. So he stood up and said, "If you leave your belongings here, you can collect them after the meeting."

She nodded and dropped her things at the desk, and took her coat off, hanging it next to Hanssen's. She looked tired and somewhat scared. "I _really_ can't be bothered with dealing with the Board today."

"I don't think any of us enjoy doing it, but it's a necessary evil, I'm afraid."

"Don't I know it."

With that, they headed down to the meeting room, and Hanssen wished he had the opportunity to speak to Serena. Not only did he want to know why she was late – though he had an inkling as to the basis of her reason – but he felt the need to ask her how she was feeling. In her letter, she sounded so confused. Torn. She seemed torn between not caring and caring too much; it didn't seem appealing in the slightest and he felt she might have been in need of help for quite a while now.

It sounded like she was mentally ill.

To his relief, there was not the same stigma around mental illness these days. There was still a bit of a taboo around it, but it wasn't nearly as bad as twenty, even ten years ago. If it was dealt with, Serena probably would be able to practice as normal. After all, Arthur Digby had general anxiety disorder and was coming back to work. Zosia March, one of the brightest young doctors he knew, was bipolar. To the best of his knowledge, Zosia's father had let that go too far before he did something to help her, and Hanssen didn't want Serena to treat her own health like Guy had treated Zosia's.

But as they walked into the room to meet the Board members, Hanssen had to let his anxieties about Serena go, and trust that she would be able to behave in a respectable manner. Despite her obvious exhaustion, he had no reason to believe she would be anything but professional when placed in this room.

He sat down next to her, and watched her pour herself coffee; she needed the caffeine. He wondered if it would be the only thing to keep her awake through this meeting.

* * *

Serena found herself scrubbing out of theatre at twenty past eight that night, having been forced to perform emergency surgery with Raf and Fletch. It was the nature of AAU that there was very little one could actually predict or schedule, so when Serena ended up running this late in the evening, she just accepted it. Besides, she had been ten minutes late for work this morning, anyway.

Her mind raced back to this morning, when she had almost run that child down with her car. This wasn't sustainable. It was going to get someone hurt; in all honesty, she wouldn't have been comfortable in theatre this evening without Raf as a backup. She was tired. Actually, she was amazed she didn't look like some zombie yanked straight out of a horror movie.

She wondered if Hanssen had stayed behind to make sure she was leaving when she ought to, or if he had assumed she would be alright.

When she eventually left the scrub room, she had had enough for the night. She wanted to go home, have a shower and go to bed. She didn't care about food, despite barely eating a thing all day – probably why she was unintentionally losing weight.

By half past, Serena was ready to go home. She'd had her fill of the Board, and of emergency surgery, and of life in general, for today. She was even starting to entertain the idea of throwing herself off the roof just so she didn't have to do it again tomorrow. It was never-ending. Just this circle of being miserable.

Before she knew it – without even registering that it was what she was doing or where she was going – Serena was at Hanssen's office door.

She knocked and was predictably invited in, but it was different. It was after half past eight and he obviously hadn't even thought about going home yet. It was a break in his routine.

"I'm leaving now," she told him. "I'm only late because we had to take Melanie James into theatre. Her kidney was poisoning her."

"Ah. But I'm sure your expertise has saved her life."

"Raf helped," she allowed.

She looked at Hanssen and realised just how serious his expression was. "I read your letter," he told her. Her heart sank. She had been hoping he would have ignored it. "Have you considered the idea that, rather then being useless, worthless or stupid, you might be ill?"

Serena stared at the floor. She knew he was right, deep down. She knew this sensation of losing control of everything. "I've been ill before," she gently admitted, sitting down on the sofa. "When I was at Harvard, I was diagnosed with depression."

"I see."

"Exactly!" she exclaimed. "That look! That look is exactly why I don't tell anyone."

That look of concern, almost pity, was the worst look in the world. To her, it was, at least.

"Do you think your depression has reared its head again?" he asked her, quite calmly. That irritated her; he was almost always calm when any normal person would freak out. "Or do you believe it is something else?"

Serena couldn't quite answer that. Truthfully, it didn't feel the same as when she was young. It was worse in many ways. Back then, because she was depressed, she just hadn't cared at all. She didn't care about when she showed up for work or class, or about what she looked like or about how she came across to other people. But now those things tied her stomach up in knots. She was all too conscious of it all now.

And yet, she didn't care enough for it to be something she willingly did.

When Hanssen understood that she wasn't going to give him an answer, he said to her, his voice soft and tinged with something that vaguely resembled compassion, "I think you need to see your GP, Serena."

She looked up at him; his expression was very strange, probably because she had just never seen that look about him before. "That's easier said than done."  
"I can make it as easy as possible for you, in terms of getting cover on the ward and in theatre, for any appointments your recovery may entail."

Serena sighed. "Alright," she agreed. Not because she wanted to, but because she knew she had to if she wanted to keep her job and her career. "I'll make an appointment first thing in the morning." It didn't feel like it was her choice, but she also felt that Hanssen was right and this couldn't continue.

"And..." he began, but he hesitated; Serena raised an eyebrow at him, trying to force to say whatever he was going to say. "And, if you need someone to talk to, you know how to contact me."

Serena shifted uncomfortably in her seat. What was it that made Henrik Hanssen reach out to her like that? She had never seen him do it. Nonetheless, she knew he was well-intentioned, and she only had one response left for him.

"Thank you, Henrik."


End file.
